{Big Bang - J2} Dreaming in Cordite - Cyberpunk AU - 1
Title: Dreaming in Cordite
Author Name: deannawol
Artist Name: sandrainthesun
Genre: RPS AU
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Sam Ferris, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Christian Kane, Various Others.
Rating: 18 Overall - Sexual situations, graphic violence in places and adult language
Warnings: Slash (M/M) relationship, oral sex, violence, off-screen death of a non J2 character.
Word Count: ~51,000
~#~#~
Chrome rock thrashed its way around the room as people struggled to find space on the crowded dance floor of Pixies, Dallas’ hottest new nightclub. The Glitterati of the city bumped and ground with street-riders and nobodies, occasionally dragging them into strobe lit corners hoping to hit the headlines on tomorrow's society pages. Everyone who was anyone was here under the spotlights, BrainDance stars and VidQueen Divas.
Jared had been lucky to get in, given that he was still a few years shy of twenty-one. He'd elbowed and shoved his way through the crowds moving deeper into the club's depravity. He'd shimmied with some street samurai, mercenaries, and their poser hangers-on before slipping into the underused VIP section. With all the tabloid snappers downstairs, very few headed up out of the by-line. But he hadn’t let that stop him from dropping a cred-chip, only fifty bucks but more than enough to sweet talk one of the underpaid waitresses into bringing over a bottle of Jack.
From his place on the upper level balcony, Jared watched the pulsing crowd. He wished that he could just fade into the background and be part of it, grinding and thrashing with the pretty, pretty people but his father's little 'Coming of Age' press conference put paid to that. His face was plastered across every TV station and dataterm in the state, much to Jared's annoyance. They'd had words over that, very loud words and way too close to the cameras for anyone's liking. So he broke free and ran to the most media heavy place in the city. Not one of his best ideas but he was in the mood for a little fun to wind down and get the anger out of his system, and there was nothing like a slow, deep fuck to work out the kinks. Only problem was picking what flavour he wanted tonight, something to get his father boiling and avoiding the snap-happy bastards looking for the money shot; him working his way through a bottle of Jack on his own.
It would just give his father yet another opportunity to roll out his usual 'irresponsible teen' rant that he so loved giving. And of course, that would be followed by the requisite 'There's still time to enrol in that MBA in UT’ speech. Every fucking week.
Christ, if he didn’t want to spend four years staring at mind-numbingly, boring books, wasn’t that his decision? He was nineteen years old, damn it, hardly a child, but Gerald Padalecki was already planning for him to take his place in the family business, Padalecki Microcybernetics. There was one son signed up to carry the technology torch, shouldn't that be enough? Who cares if Grandpa Harold invested in the microchip before the so-called giants of the computer industry even knew that they existed, holding them to ransom for the highest price? And before that, Great-Granddad P decided to start stockpiling plane parts all ready to sell to the government when they got desperate enough to agree to his exorbitant prices, starting the chain of capitalist wheeling dealing. Father to son through four generations, with his older brother as the latest mogul in the legacy. And no matter what Jared said, his father just couldn’t get it through his head that his youngest son was more interested in getting tech installed than overseeing its creation. Sitting behind a desk just wasn't for him. He wanted to be out on the streets with the bullets flying past him and adrenaline burning through his veins. Well, maybe without the bullets. Sure it looked good on the sims but Jared liked living too much to simply walk out of his cosy penthouse life.
That was part of the reason he was here tonight. A little fun and excitement without his bodyguards looking over his shoulder and making snide comments, or worse, reporting back to the great Gerald Padalecki on his every move. It hadn't been easy to shake his shadows. The guys were trained, highly trained and shit scared of their boss. He'd tried to bribing them but no dice. He'd tried slipping past them in his stockinged feet but damn that heightened hearing. But a pack of worm tablets in the coffee pot had done what nothing else had. Wouldn't do anything worse than keeping them within five meters of the bathroom but it would give Jared the chance to live a little, be closer to that edge. His other reasons were a lot more basic; pick up some hot, young someone and get his rocks off. And there was a prime candidate.
Decked out in enough armour to cover a small family, the man moved with a panther's grace across the floor, neatly sidestepping problems before they stepped into his path. There was no mistaking this guy as anything other than a street fighter, fresh from the grime and grit of Dallas' underside. A couple of years ago, the normals would have scattered scared as soon as someone like him walked in through the doors but now it seemed like the city couldn't get enough of their darkest sons. And the darker the better. Blond hair, slicked and flattened out of his face. Eyes hidden behind mirror shades as he looked over the crowd with an ease that only his extreme height could offer him. Jared estimated that the guy was at least as tall as he was if not an inch or two taller judging by how he towered over the rest of the population. He had an edge of danger about him and that was all that Jared needed tonight.
The man was full of confidence and a certain unidentifiable quality that woke Jared’s primal instinct. Tan dark skin under darker leather. The man was a walking wet dream. If he fucked like he walked, then Jared was in for a very good night.
That was presuming, of course, that he could get close to the guy and that he would want to be seen with the kid from the lead feature on the six o'clock news. That was where Daddy's AmEx came in. Nothing like an open tab to help with making a good impression. The perfect precursor to his fabulous, dimpled smile.
Checking himself out in one of the mirrored panels that decorated the walls, Jared ran a hand through his hair, giving it that artfully dishevelled look that he was famous for. He looked over the fit of the red leather jeans and white shirt; tight enough to show off his assets. He looked damned good and knew it. Throwing back another swig of Jack before dropping the bottle on one of the tables. If everything went well, he wouldn't be needing it, and if not, well... It was easy to bribe another waitress.
Jared moved past the ropes sectioning off the VIP section from the rest of the club, tipping the bouncer a wink and, more discretely, a cred chip with enough money to get him and his evening's entertainment back in without any problems. He'd seen the man move towards the bar. If everything went to plan, he would swoop in, pay the man’s bill and invite the man back upstairs for a little... rest and recreation.
It was easy to navigate the wake the man had left behind. Platinum girls and diamond boys could do nothing but watch the fighter pass, none of them getting even the barest of glances from the fighter. One or two who did work up the courage to step into his path got about as far as their overused pick-up lines before being treated to his withering stare, sending them scampering. Luckily for him, Jared liked a challenge and it took a lot more than a scowl to shake him.
His target had already ordered a drink by the time that Jared had made his way to the bar. Jared let his eyes crawl over his target, taking in the fine details. Sun-streaked blond hair, eyes so blue that they had to be cybered, and hot as hell. Just Jared's type.
Pulling the black credcard from his pocket, he slid it across the bar as the bartender returned. “Let me,” Jared smiled one of his winning smiles, dimples showing clear and easy on his cheeks.
The blond looked him up and down, lip curling into a sneer, “I buy my own drinks.”
Jared didn't let the knock back faze him, just slipped the card back into his pocket “Fine! You can buy me a drink then. JD, neat, no rocks.”
The blond quirked an eyebrow. His eyes tracked the bartender as he made his way to the other end of the bar, “Yeah, 'cause I really wanna end my night in handcuffs.”
“Dunno what you mean,” Jared frowned.
The merc looked around the bar, letting his eyes crawl over the patrons standing close to them. He leaned in close, dropping his voice so that only Jared could pick up his words, “Managed to catch the early edition before I left. Gotta say, the camera didn’t do you justice.”
“Well...” Jared smiled again, as he turned his head, his breath caressing the fighter’s ear, “we don't have to use the handcuffs.”
The blond’s eyes widened for an instant before he chuckled, “You don't hear 'no' often do you?”
“Not very. It just gets in the way of what I have planned.”
“And what do you have planned?” The blond asked, curiosity playing across his face.
Jared smirked and pushed away from the bar. He was about five steps away when he stopped and looked over his shoulder, “You'll have to follow me if you want an answer to that.”
The blond tossed a couple of battered bills on the bar, knocked back his drink and took off after Jared. The bouncer snapped the velvet rope out of their way, inclining his head as Jared reached out a hand and grabbed the other man, dragging him deeper into the restricted section.
He had the perfect spot picked out; enough shadow to hide the specifics but bright enough that people would appreciate that disturbances were not welcome. It was just moments before Jared was bouncing down on the plush seat. He could feel the tightening of muscles in his partner as the man resisted for an instant before letting himself get dragged down onto the seat. There was a flash of something in the man’s eyes but it was gone before Jared could pin point it. He pulled back a second, brow furrowing as he checked that the man wasn’t getting cold feet.
He was about to ask him if he was still okay when the fighter pushed him down to lie on the couch, covering Jared with his body. He let one of his hands reach out to push the hair back from the younger man’s face. The merc lets his fingertips trace over the younger man’s cheek and then down the column of his throat. Jared arched his neck. The blond leaned in close enough for Jared to feel the pant of breath against the sensitive skin before licking a long swathe along his pulse line. He shivered and not from excitement.
Teeth nipped at his earlobe and Jared started. A flick of tongue stole the moment of pain and moved higher, licking inside the shell of his ear. Jared squirmed at the horrid wet feeling. He'd had a fucking shower before he'd come out, he didn't need another one.
“So how we gonna play this?” The fighter asked between licks.
“You're gonna make me feel like Heaven and then I'm gonna make you scream for the angels,” Jared grinned, “that good for you?”
“Yeah, fine,” another unidentifiable something flashed across the merc’s eyes as Jared watched but it vanished as the man smiled and asked, “What do you want first?”
“Go down on me?” Jared asked, hoping to shift the man's attention away from his ear.
“Sorry, man, don't do that,” the blond went back to his licking.
“The fuck?” Jared swore, “Anything else you don't do? Your hands still work or y’got a problem giving a guy a hand?”
“Suppose not,” the man shrugged awkwardly.
“Well, what you waiting for then?”
“Pushy for a kid that shouldn't even be in here, ain’t ya?” the man grinned as he moved his hand down until it rested on Jared’s crotch.
Pushing back into the seat, Jared gave the blond room to flick the buttons open and push a hand inside. Jared hadn’t bothered with underwear, which seemed to please the over-eager blond. He closed his eyes as he felt fingers wrapped around his shaft. Jared brought his hand up to the back of the fighters head, letting his fingers card through the streaked hair before extending his neck and pulling his lover down.
This time, the fighter took the hint and nibble, licked his way down the corded muscle. Jared lost himself as the man ran a thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the first drops of pre-come over the crown.
“Aw yeah, baby, just like that,” Jared groaned, panting.
The blond stroked faster, driven by Jared's words. Jared fisted his hand in the other man’s hair as he edged closer to climax. He could feel the precipice coming near as his body tightened and his balls drew tight. One more second, one more stroke and...
BZZZZZ
Jared's phone buzzed in his pocket.
“Ignore it!” Jared ordered as the man started to push away. “I’m almost there! Don’t-Jesusfuck-don’t stop!”
He thumped his thigh, trying to blindly disconnect the call, but it didn't seem to be working. Fumbling in his pocket, he tried to pull the phone out without answering the call. Just as the tiny Japanese creation was free, the buzzing stopped. Jared tossed the phone on the couch beside him, ignoring it as the blond picked up the pace again. Tensing, Jared found himself re-approaching his interrupted peak. His breathing was ragged, his pulse echoing through his ears.
Trailing a hand down, he wrapped his long slender fingers around the other man’s hand, showing him the perfect rhythm to hurry him along. The fighter had just found the right speed when the phone buzzed again. Jared fumbled for the phone again, looking at the display.
“Shit, I gotta get this,” Jared apologised as he clicked the green button to answer the call.
The blond tried to withdraw his hand, but Jared kept his hand over his, stroking slowly until the blond got the message.
“JD, you got the shittiest timing!”
The voice on the other end was firm, brokering no jokes, “Jared, I need you to tell me where you are.”
“The fuck, JD?” Jared frowned. “Where do you think I am? I told you, I was going out for the night and, no offence, but I don’t exactly need a wingman.”
“Damnit, Jared, this isn’t funny. I need to know where you are and I need to know now!”
There was something to the man's voice that made Jared push away from his companion and sit up. A note of desperation that didn't generally cross his father's head of security's voice.
“Jeez, JD. Dad must be riding you hard over my ditching tonight to get you this riled up.” Jared said, trying to get the older man to calm down.
“You got three seconds or I track your cell,” JD shouted down the phone.
Jared pulled the phone away from his ear, “Christ, if it means that much to you, I'm at Pix...”
Cold steel pressed firmly to the skin on his neck, shutting him up.
“Jared? Jared, say that again, I didn't catch the name,” JD’s voice was only a shade away from frantic.
The phone was taken from his hand. He turned to see the smirk on his companion's face.
“Jared can't come to the phone right now. He's a little … incapacitated,” the blond's cold smile make Jared shiver. “Really, Morgan, I gotta say I'm surprised you let the kid out on his own. I mean, fifty grand for this, I feel as if I'm being overpaid. I really expected better from you. Should have beaten the ‘slut’ outta him, makes him a really easy mark.”
With that he dropped the phone and crushed it under the heel of his combat boots.
“Honestly, you should be a little less predictable.” The fighter slid closer to Jared, knife pressing hard against Jared's jugular as he spoke. “Anyone worth their guns knows that you're a danger junkie, always attracted to the bright and shiny world of street fighting and merc work. Hell, if Morgan had given us about five more minutes, I reckon I woulda got you to agree to bring me home.”
The merc played the knife over Jared’s throat, pressing deeper, “Imagine the look on ole Jeff’s face as he opened your door and finds your laid out corpse decorating the room. Shit, that would have been priceless. As it is, I gotta do this quick and dirty.”
Jared turned his head slowly, giving the merc enough time to move the knife with him and not slice him, “Wh...” He felt a warm trickle down his throat. He gulped, closing his eyes before fear got a proper foothold. “Why?”
“Talking isn't the best idea at the moment, kid, not with a monoblade at your throat,” the merc dug into Jared's skin drawing another drop of blood. “One little slice and they'll find your body up here in a nice, wet mess. Ya know how rare it is in my business to find a ’weave virgin? Someone with just ordinary skin. A little flick,” the merc flicked the blade again, drawing more blood, “and you’re gone. Only ones interested in you then will be the vultures of the body banks.”
Jared's eyes frantically searched the shadows hoping that someone would notice his predicament, one of the bouncers, the floor staff, even the waitress that he bribed into bringing him the bottle of Jack earlier. But there was no way they could see the knife; the merc was blocking all the lines of sight. He'd chosen his little hideaway too well. Everyone was either on the dance floor or buried deep in their own diversions.
The merc leaned in close, whisper-talking over the music straight into Jared's ear, “This is how it's going to be, kid. We're gonna walk outta here, you and me. There's a fire exit down the corridor. That's where we're heading. And don't go thinking that you can just ditch me and run for it. I'm gonna have my knife here at your back. One step outta place and I'll sever your spine. Ya got that? And that’s when I’m going to get interesting. And trust me, you’re not going to like that.”
The knife drew back a fraction, giving Jared just enough room to nod his head. Guided by the blade, Jared rose slowly. The self-defence lessons that JD had taught him ran through his mind but with the threat still at his throat, there wasn’t much he could do without being sliced and diced. Maybe when the merc moved…
But the blade went from his throat to his back in half a heartbeat, less maybe, setting alarm bells off in Jared’s head. The guy had to be wired. He remembered JD warning him about it and telling him to stay the hell outta any fights if he thought they were packing any sort of speedware.
The thin cotton of the vest top split under the pressure and a drop of blood escaped to run down the hollow of his back. Jared held himself still, trying not to shiver as he felt the cold metal against his skin.
“Now, do up your pants. Don’t wanna give the nice people a show while we’re walking outta here all quiet like.”
Jared shoved himself back in before fumbling with the buttons. His fingers slipped and slid over and off the buttons, so much so that he was barely half finished when he felt the knife poke deeper into his back. The merc leaned in close, hiding the knife between his body and Jared’s. Anyone that looked their way would assume they were lovers disappearing home to work off some frustration, not a boy in desperate need of help.
A painful stab, the blade biting deeper into his flesh, hurried him along across the floor towards the corridor leading to the bathrooms. He could feel the slow, steady ooze of blood running down his back and seeping into the leather of his pants making them warm and sticky. Jared’s mind was working overtime, trying frantically to think of something, anything, to do or say that might get him that all-important moment of indecision but he was drawing a blank. He, the boy that JD had accused time and time again of always having a smart assed comment, couldn't think of a single thing to say. Sweat prickled his skin, forming cold drops that ran down from his hairline. Not thinking, Jared reached up to wipe them with the back of his hand. He instantly regretted the action as the merc pushed forward, slamming him through the swinging doorway. Arching his back, Jared cursed God and Heaven as pain traced lines through his system.
"The fuck, man," Jared spun to face his attacker, knife dragging across his back, slicing open skin and shirt alike.
The merc's eyes were wide, "The hell you think you're doing kid? You some kinda stupid?"
"Ain't like you're not just gonna kill me soon as you get me outside."
The merc actually stopped at that, considering the words. Jared was opening his mouth to add something when something clicked in his brain. The blade was no longer at his back. He could see the same realisation dawn on the merc. Shit. Jared ran, sprinting for the emergency exit at the end of the corridor. He had about 5 inches on the guy and all of that in the legs. Jared ran for his fucking life. The pretentious purples and pinks of walls blurred past as he pushed himself harder than ever before.
He was almost under the green emergency sign but Jared didn't slow. He reached out, grasping for the push bar. As soon as his fingers found it, he pressed down hard causing the door to fly open. He stumbled as his foot caught on the lip of the door, almost tumbling down the metal fire escape. Arms pin-wheeling, he tottered at the edge of the step, frantically trying to catch something, anything.
A hand shoved him, pushing him closer to the edge. Jared just managed to catch the metal safety railing. He looked back over his shoulder into the feral smile of the mercenary. He kicked out but missed the merc's knee by a city mile. The fighter grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked, hoping to pull Jared free of the railing and get him off balance. He could feel the cotton vest start to rip as the man hauled him back. Jared felt his shoe slip on the metal surface below him. He could see the railing rise to meet him. He dropped his hands, hoping to stop himself before his face met the galvanised steel but his aim was off. He felt the jarring pain crack through his fingers as his hand took the impact in the worst possible way, digits bending back, almost breaking under the force.
That’s when it came to him. Christ, why hadn't he thought of it before? JD and his fucking paranoia. He'd complained at the time, argued until he was blue in the face, but JD had insisted, selling the idea to his father so completely that the old man had volunteered for the operation himself. Jared took a deep breath and swung his leg back again, trying to buy himself another second or two. A quick glance showed the merc skipping back out of the way. Jared slammed his hand down again, thumb first. But it wasn't enough. He couldn't bring himself to hit the metal that hard, pulling his punches.
Jared looked around, frantically trying to see something he could use, anything at all, to break his thumb but he was coming up blank. He tried to pull himself up but the merc was there, pushing him down with a hand in the middle of his back. He flailed, trying to nail something but the guy was a much better fighter than him, moving neatly out of the way of the wild swings without allowing Jared even the slightest leeway.
All the merc needed was one good strike, one blade in the right place and...
Jared screamed as the merc shoved the knife in between his ribs, hitching it sideways as it glanced off bone. Another stab, then another and he was fighting for air. His mind filled in the images as he pictured the blood seeping into his lung. He could already taste the blood on the back of his throat. He was going to die on the back fire escape of Dallas' new club with his trousers only half done up.
Jared sucked in a wet, bloody breath and dropped his hold on the railing. He slammed down onto the platform. His hand buckled as he hit, trapped under him. He had heard the snap of bones breaking but the pain from his ribs overwrote the pain in his hand. He could only pray that one of those bones had been his thumb. He heard the merc cursing somewhere above him.
Slowly shuffling until he was face up, Jared hucked a gob of blood soaked spit at the man's shoes. He didn't have the energy to aim any higher. With goliath effort, he pulled his hand up until it was in front of his face. Two fingers twisted back at a grotesque angle. He'd never seen such a beautiful sight. He smiled, slumping back down to the metal floor. He’d done it. Another minute, maybe two and help would be here. All he had to do was
The merc frowned, mouth opening and closing as he tried to work out why the kid was smiling. Jared watched him look around, searching for something, anything to explain the sudden smile.
"Dunno what the hell you think you got planned but..."
Jared kept his smile as he forced two words out, "Trauma Team!"
Trauma Team were the last word in ambulances, available to anyone who could afford their exorbitant rates. The merc paled, eyes going to the skies to search for the silhouette of an AV4 .
"Shit!" He cursed, "Shit! Should have just done you in the club. Idiot!" The man ran a hand through his blond hair, skritching his scalp with the hand not holding the knife as he tried to think. "You just cost me the biggest pay check of my life!"
Jared smirked, “Not my fault you suck, dude!”
The merc knelt down beside his mark and shook his head, "They'll patch you up, kid, get everything back in the right place but that don't mean I’m gonna make it easy for them."
Jared's eyes widened as he registered the mercenary's words. Struggling, he tried to back away but the railings were in the way. He was trapped.
Light flashed off the blade as it slashed down, opening vest and skin in one slick move. Jared's eyes slipped closed as he screamed. Another slice and then another. He could feel the pain flash through him. His world narrowed to the wetness of blood flowing and the agony running through him. He could just make out the manic laughter of the mercenary somewhere above him.
“Don’t forget to give Morgan my regards,” the older man whispered in his ear, “if you survive.”
There was one final deep thrust and nothing.
Master Fic Post | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13
14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | Epilogue | Master Art Post | Soundtrack
Author Name: deannawol
Artist Name: sandrainthesun
Genre: RPS AU
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Sam Ferris, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Christian Kane, Various Others.
Rating: 18 Overall - Sexual situations, graphic violence in places and adult language
Warnings: Slash (M/M) relationship, oral sex, violence, off-screen death of a non J2 character.
Word Count: ~51,000
~#~#~
Chrome rock thrashed its way around the room as people struggled to find space on the crowded dance floor of Pixies, Dallas’ hottest new nightclub. The Glitterati of the city bumped and ground with street-riders and nobodies, occasionally dragging them into strobe lit corners hoping to hit the headlines on tomorrow's society pages. Everyone who was anyone was here under the spotlights, BrainDance stars and VidQueen Divas.
Jared had been lucky to get in, given that he was still a few years shy of twenty-one. He'd elbowed and shoved his way through the crowds moving deeper into the club's depravity. He'd shimmied with some street samurai, mercenaries, and their poser hangers-on before slipping into the underused VIP section. With all the tabloid snappers downstairs, very few headed up out of the by-line. But he hadn’t let that stop him from dropping a cred-chip, only fifty bucks but more than enough to sweet talk one of the underpaid waitresses into bringing over a bottle of Jack.
From his place on the upper level balcony, Jared watched the pulsing crowd. He wished that he could just fade into the background and be part of it, grinding and thrashing with the pretty, pretty people but his father's little 'Coming of Age' press conference put paid to that. His face was plastered across every TV station and dataterm in the state, much to Jared's annoyance. They'd had words over that, very loud words and way too close to the cameras for anyone's liking. So he broke free and ran to the most media heavy place in the city. Not one of his best ideas but he was in the mood for a little fun to wind down and get the anger out of his system, and there was nothing like a slow, deep fuck to work out the kinks. Only problem was picking what flavour he wanted tonight, something to get his father boiling and avoiding the snap-happy bastards looking for the money shot; him working his way through a bottle of Jack on his own.
It would just give his father yet another opportunity to roll out his usual 'irresponsible teen' rant that he so loved giving. And of course, that would be followed by the requisite 'There's still time to enrol in that MBA in UT’ speech. Every fucking week.
Christ, if he didn’t want to spend four years staring at mind-numbingly, boring books, wasn’t that his decision? He was nineteen years old, damn it, hardly a child, but Gerald Padalecki was already planning for him to take his place in the family business, Padalecki Microcybernetics. There was one son signed up to carry the technology torch, shouldn't that be enough? Who cares if Grandpa Harold invested in the microchip before the so-called giants of the computer industry even knew that they existed, holding them to ransom for the highest price? And before that, Great-Granddad P decided to start stockpiling plane parts all ready to sell to the government when they got desperate enough to agree to his exorbitant prices, starting the chain of capitalist wheeling dealing. Father to son through four generations, with his older brother as the latest mogul in the legacy. And no matter what Jared said, his father just couldn’t get it through his head that his youngest son was more interested in getting tech installed than overseeing its creation. Sitting behind a desk just wasn't for him. He wanted to be out on the streets with the bullets flying past him and adrenaline burning through his veins. Well, maybe without the bullets. Sure it looked good on the sims but Jared liked living too much to simply walk out of his cosy penthouse life.
That was part of the reason he was here tonight. A little fun and excitement without his bodyguards looking over his shoulder and making snide comments, or worse, reporting back to the great Gerald Padalecki on his every move. It hadn't been easy to shake his shadows. The guys were trained, highly trained and shit scared of their boss. He'd tried to bribing them but no dice. He'd tried slipping past them in his stockinged feet but damn that heightened hearing. But a pack of worm tablets in the coffee pot had done what nothing else had. Wouldn't do anything worse than keeping them within five meters of the bathroom but it would give Jared the chance to live a little, be closer to that edge. His other reasons were a lot more basic; pick up some hot, young someone and get his rocks off. And there was a prime candidate.
Decked out in enough armour to cover a small family, the man moved with a panther's grace across the floor, neatly sidestepping problems before they stepped into his path. There was no mistaking this guy as anything other than a street fighter, fresh from the grime and grit of Dallas' underside. A couple of years ago, the normals would have scattered scared as soon as someone like him walked in through the doors but now it seemed like the city couldn't get enough of their darkest sons. And the darker the better. Blond hair, slicked and flattened out of his face. Eyes hidden behind mirror shades as he looked over the crowd with an ease that only his extreme height could offer him. Jared estimated that the guy was at least as tall as he was if not an inch or two taller judging by how he towered over the rest of the population. He had an edge of danger about him and that was all that Jared needed tonight.
The man was full of confidence and a certain unidentifiable quality that woke Jared’s primal instinct. Tan dark skin under darker leather. The man was a walking wet dream. If he fucked like he walked, then Jared was in for a very good night.
That was presuming, of course, that he could get close to the guy and that he would want to be seen with the kid from the lead feature on the six o'clock news. That was where Daddy's AmEx came in. Nothing like an open tab to help with making a good impression. The perfect precursor to his fabulous, dimpled smile.
Checking himself out in one of the mirrored panels that decorated the walls, Jared ran a hand through his hair, giving it that artfully dishevelled look that he was famous for. He looked over the fit of the red leather jeans and white shirt; tight enough to show off his assets. He looked damned good and knew it. Throwing back another swig of Jack before dropping the bottle on one of the tables. If everything went well, he wouldn't be needing it, and if not, well... It was easy to bribe another waitress.
Jared moved past the ropes sectioning off the VIP section from the rest of the club, tipping the bouncer a wink and, more discretely, a cred chip with enough money to get him and his evening's entertainment back in without any problems. He'd seen the man move towards the bar. If everything went to plan, he would swoop in, pay the man’s bill and invite the man back upstairs for a little... rest and recreation.
It was easy to navigate the wake the man had left behind. Platinum girls and diamond boys could do nothing but watch the fighter pass, none of them getting even the barest of glances from the fighter. One or two who did work up the courage to step into his path got about as far as their overused pick-up lines before being treated to his withering stare, sending them scampering. Luckily for him, Jared liked a challenge and it took a lot more than a scowl to shake him.
His target had already ordered a drink by the time that Jared had made his way to the bar. Jared let his eyes crawl over his target, taking in the fine details. Sun-streaked blond hair, eyes so blue that they had to be cybered, and hot as hell. Just Jared's type.
Pulling the black credcard from his pocket, he slid it across the bar as the bartender returned. “Let me,” Jared smiled one of his winning smiles, dimples showing clear and easy on his cheeks.
The blond looked him up and down, lip curling into a sneer, “I buy my own drinks.”
Jared didn't let the knock back faze him, just slipped the card back into his pocket “Fine! You can buy me a drink then. JD, neat, no rocks.”
The blond quirked an eyebrow. His eyes tracked the bartender as he made his way to the other end of the bar, “Yeah, 'cause I really wanna end my night in handcuffs.”
“Dunno what you mean,” Jared frowned.
The merc looked around the bar, letting his eyes crawl over the patrons standing close to them. He leaned in close, dropping his voice so that only Jared could pick up his words, “Managed to catch the early edition before I left. Gotta say, the camera didn’t do you justice.”
“Well...” Jared smiled again, as he turned his head, his breath caressing the fighter’s ear, “we don't have to use the handcuffs.”
The blond’s eyes widened for an instant before he chuckled, “You don't hear 'no' often do you?”
“Not very. It just gets in the way of what I have planned.”
“And what do you have planned?” The blond asked, curiosity playing across his face.
Jared smirked and pushed away from the bar. He was about five steps away when he stopped and looked over his shoulder, “You'll have to follow me if you want an answer to that.”
The blond tossed a couple of battered bills on the bar, knocked back his drink and took off after Jared. The bouncer snapped the velvet rope out of their way, inclining his head as Jared reached out a hand and grabbed the other man, dragging him deeper into the restricted section.
He had the perfect spot picked out; enough shadow to hide the specifics but bright enough that people would appreciate that disturbances were not welcome. It was just moments before Jared was bouncing down on the plush seat. He could feel the tightening of muscles in his partner as the man resisted for an instant before letting himself get dragged down onto the seat. There was a flash of something in the man’s eyes but it was gone before Jared could pin point it. He pulled back a second, brow furrowing as he checked that the man wasn’t getting cold feet.
He was about to ask him if he was still okay when the fighter pushed him down to lie on the couch, covering Jared with his body. He let one of his hands reach out to push the hair back from the younger man’s face. The merc lets his fingertips trace over the younger man’s cheek and then down the column of his throat. Jared arched his neck. The blond leaned in close enough for Jared to feel the pant of breath against the sensitive skin before licking a long swathe along his pulse line. He shivered and not from excitement.
Teeth nipped at his earlobe and Jared started. A flick of tongue stole the moment of pain and moved higher, licking inside the shell of his ear. Jared squirmed at the horrid wet feeling. He'd had a fucking shower before he'd come out, he didn't need another one.
“So how we gonna play this?” The fighter asked between licks.
“You're gonna make me feel like Heaven and then I'm gonna make you scream for the angels,” Jared grinned, “that good for you?”
“Yeah, fine,” another unidentifiable something flashed across the merc’s eyes as Jared watched but it vanished as the man smiled and asked, “What do you want first?”
“Go down on me?” Jared asked, hoping to shift the man's attention away from his ear.
“Sorry, man, don't do that,” the blond went back to his licking.
“The fuck?” Jared swore, “Anything else you don't do? Your hands still work or y’got a problem giving a guy a hand?”
“Suppose not,” the man shrugged awkwardly.
“Well, what you waiting for then?”
“Pushy for a kid that shouldn't even be in here, ain’t ya?” the man grinned as he moved his hand down until it rested on Jared’s crotch.
Pushing back into the seat, Jared gave the blond room to flick the buttons open and push a hand inside. Jared hadn’t bothered with underwear, which seemed to please the over-eager blond. He closed his eyes as he felt fingers wrapped around his shaft. Jared brought his hand up to the back of the fighters head, letting his fingers card through the streaked hair before extending his neck and pulling his lover down.
This time, the fighter took the hint and nibble, licked his way down the corded muscle. Jared lost himself as the man ran a thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the first drops of pre-come over the crown.
“Aw yeah, baby, just like that,” Jared groaned, panting.
The blond stroked faster, driven by Jared's words. Jared fisted his hand in the other man’s hair as he edged closer to climax. He could feel the precipice coming near as his body tightened and his balls drew tight. One more second, one more stroke and...
BZZZZZ
Jared's phone buzzed in his pocket.
“Ignore it!” Jared ordered as the man started to push away. “I’m almost there! Don’t-Jesusfuck-don’t stop!”
He thumped his thigh, trying to blindly disconnect the call, but it didn't seem to be working. Fumbling in his pocket, he tried to pull the phone out without answering the call. Just as the tiny Japanese creation was free, the buzzing stopped. Jared tossed the phone on the couch beside him, ignoring it as the blond picked up the pace again. Tensing, Jared found himself re-approaching his interrupted peak. His breathing was ragged, his pulse echoing through his ears.
Trailing a hand down, he wrapped his long slender fingers around the other man’s hand, showing him the perfect rhythm to hurry him along. The fighter had just found the right speed when the phone buzzed again. Jared fumbled for the phone again, looking at the display.
“Shit, I gotta get this,” Jared apologised as he clicked the green button to answer the call.
The blond tried to withdraw his hand, but Jared kept his hand over his, stroking slowly until the blond got the message.
“JD, you got the shittiest timing!”
The voice on the other end was firm, brokering no jokes, “Jared, I need you to tell me where you are.”
“The fuck, JD?” Jared frowned. “Where do you think I am? I told you, I was going out for the night and, no offence, but I don’t exactly need a wingman.”
“Damnit, Jared, this isn’t funny. I need to know where you are and I need to know now!”
There was something to the man's voice that made Jared push away from his companion and sit up. A note of desperation that didn't generally cross his father's head of security's voice.
“Jeez, JD. Dad must be riding you hard over my ditching tonight to get you this riled up.” Jared said, trying to get the older man to calm down.
“You got three seconds or I track your cell,” JD shouted down the phone.
Jared pulled the phone away from his ear, “Christ, if it means that much to you, I'm at Pix...”
Cold steel pressed firmly to the skin on his neck, shutting him up.
“Jared? Jared, say that again, I didn't catch the name,” JD’s voice was only a shade away from frantic.
The phone was taken from his hand. He turned to see the smirk on his companion's face.
“Jared can't come to the phone right now. He's a little … incapacitated,” the blond's cold smile make Jared shiver. “Really, Morgan, I gotta say I'm surprised you let the kid out on his own. I mean, fifty grand for this, I feel as if I'm being overpaid. I really expected better from you. Should have beaten the ‘slut’ outta him, makes him a really easy mark.”
With that he dropped the phone and crushed it under the heel of his combat boots.
“Honestly, you should be a little less predictable.” The fighter slid closer to Jared, knife pressing hard against Jared's jugular as he spoke. “Anyone worth their guns knows that you're a danger junkie, always attracted to the bright and shiny world of street fighting and merc work. Hell, if Morgan had given us about five more minutes, I reckon I woulda got you to agree to bring me home.”
The merc played the knife over Jared’s throat, pressing deeper, “Imagine the look on ole Jeff’s face as he opened your door and finds your laid out corpse decorating the room. Shit, that would have been priceless. As it is, I gotta do this quick and dirty.”
Jared turned his head slowly, giving the merc enough time to move the knife with him and not slice him, “Wh...” He felt a warm trickle down his throat. He gulped, closing his eyes before fear got a proper foothold. “Why?”
“Talking isn't the best idea at the moment, kid, not with a monoblade at your throat,” the merc dug into Jared's skin drawing another drop of blood. “One little slice and they'll find your body up here in a nice, wet mess. Ya know how rare it is in my business to find a ’weave virgin? Someone with just ordinary skin. A little flick,” the merc flicked the blade again, drawing more blood, “and you’re gone. Only ones interested in you then will be the vultures of the body banks.”
Jared's eyes frantically searched the shadows hoping that someone would notice his predicament, one of the bouncers, the floor staff, even the waitress that he bribed into bringing him the bottle of Jack earlier. But there was no way they could see the knife; the merc was blocking all the lines of sight. He'd chosen his little hideaway too well. Everyone was either on the dance floor or buried deep in their own diversions.
The merc leaned in close, whisper-talking over the music straight into Jared's ear, “This is how it's going to be, kid. We're gonna walk outta here, you and me. There's a fire exit down the corridor. That's where we're heading. And don't go thinking that you can just ditch me and run for it. I'm gonna have my knife here at your back. One step outta place and I'll sever your spine. Ya got that? And that’s when I’m going to get interesting. And trust me, you’re not going to like that.”
The knife drew back a fraction, giving Jared just enough room to nod his head. Guided by the blade, Jared rose slowly. The self-defence lessons that JD had taught him ran through his mind but with the threat still at his throat, there wasn’t much he could do without being sliced and diced. Maybe when the merc moved…
But the blade went from his throat to his back in half a heartbeat, less maybe, setting alarm bells off in Jared’s head. The guy had to be wired. He remembered JD warning him about it and telling him to stay the hell outta any fights if he thought they were packing any sort of speedware.
The thin cotton of the vest top split under the pressure and a drop of blood escaped to run down the hollow of his back. Jared held himself still, trying not to shiver as he felt the cold metal against his skin.
“Now, do up your pants. Don’t wanna give the nice people a show while we’re walking outta here all quiet like.”
Jared shoved himself back in before fumbling with the buttons. His fingers slipped and slid over and off the buttons, so much so that he was barely half finished when he felt the knife poke deeper into his back. The merc leaned in close, hiding the knife between his body and Jared’s. Anyone that looked their way would assume they were lovers disappearing home to work off some frustration, not a boy in desperate need of help.
A painful stab, the blade biting deeper into his flesh, hurried him along across the floor towards the corridor leading to the bathrooms. He could feel the slow, steady ooze of blood running down his back and seeping into the leather of his pants making them warm and sticky. Jared’s mind was working overtime, trying frantically to think of something, anything, to do or say that might get him that all-important moment of indecision but he was drawing a blank. He, the boy that JD had accused time and time again of always having a smart assed comment, couldn't think of a single thing to say. Sweat prickled his skin, forming cold drops that ran down from his hairline. Not thinking, Jared reached up to wipe them with the back of his hand. He instantly regretted the action as the merc pushed forward, slamming him through the swinging doorway. Arching his back, Jared cursed God and Heaven as pain traced lines through his system.
"The fuck, man," Jared spun to face his attacker, knife dragging across his back, slicing open skin and shirt alike.
The merc's eyes were wide, "The hell you think you're doing kid? You some kinda stupid?"
"Ain't like you're not just gonna kill me soon as you get me outside."
The merc actually stopped at that, considering the words. Jared was opening his mouth to add something when something clicked in his brain. The blade was no longer at his back. He could see the same realisation dawn on the merc. Shit. Jared ran, sprinting for the emergency exit at the end of the corridor. He had about 5 inches on the guy and all of that in the legs. Jared ran for his fucking life. The pretentious purples and pinks of walls blurred past as he pushed himself harder than ever before.
He was almost under the green emergency sign but Jared didn't slow. He reached out, grasping for the push bar. As soon as his fingers found it, he pressed down hard causing the door to fly open. He stumbled as his foot caught on the lip of the door, almost tumbling down the metal fire escape. Arms pin-wheeling, he tottered at the edge of the step, frantically trying to catch something, anything.
A hand shoved him, pushing him closer to the edge. Jared just managed to catch the metal safety railing. He looked back over his shoulder into the feral smile of the mercenary. He kicked out but missed the merc's knee by a city mile. The fighter grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked, hoping to pull Jared free of the railing and get him off balance. He could feel the cotton vest start to rip as the man hauled him back. Jared felt his shoe slip on the metal surface below him. He could see the railing rise to meet him. He dropped his hands, hoping to stop himself before his face met the galvanised steel but his aim was off. He felt the jarring pain crack through his fingers as his hand took the impact in the worst possible way, digits bending back, almost breaking under the force.
That’s when it came to him. Christ, why hadn't he thought of it before? JD and his fucking paranoia. He'd complained at the time, argued until he was blue in the face, but JD had insisted, selling the idea to his father so completely that the old man had volunteered for the operation himself. Jared took a deep breath and swung his leg back again, trying to buy himself another second or two. A quick glance showed the merc skipping back out of the way. Jared slammed his hand down again, thumb first. But it wasn't enough. He couldn't bring himself to hit the metal that hard, pulling his punches.
Jared looked around, frantically trying to see something he could use, anything at all, to break his thumb but he was coming up blank. He tried to pull himself up but the merc was there, pushing him down with a hand in the middle of his back. He flailed, trying to nail something but the guy was a much better fighter than him, moving neatly out of the way of the wild swings without allowing Jared even the slightest leeway.
All the merc needed was one good strike, one blade in the right place and...
Jared screamed as the merc shoved the knife in between his ribs, hitching it sideways as it glanced off bone. Another stab, then another and he was fighting for air. His mind filled in the images as he pictured the blood seeping into his lung. He could already taste the blood on the back of his throat. He was going to die on the back fire escape of Dallas' new club with his trousers only half done up.
Jared sucked in a wet, bloody breath and dropped his hold on the railing. He slammed down onto the platform. His hand buckled as he hit, trapped under him. He had heard the snap of bones breaking but the pain from his ribs overwrote the pain in his hand. He could only pray that one of those bones had been his thumb. He heard the merc cursing somewhere above him.
Slowly shuffling until he was face up, Jared hucked a gob of blood soaked spit at the man's shoes. He didn't have the energy to aim any higher. With goliath effort, he pulled his hand up until it was in front of his face. Two fingers twisted back at a grotesque angle. He'd never seen such a beautiful sight. He smiled, slumping back down to the metal floor. He’d done it. Another minute, maybe two and help would be here. All he had to do was
The merc frowned, mouth opening and closing as he tried to work out why the kid was smiling. Jared watched him look around, searching for something, anything to explain the sudden smile.
"Dunno what the hell you think you got planned but..."
Jared kept his smile as he forced two words out, "Trauma Team!"
Trauma Team were the last word in ambulances, available to anyone who could afford their exorbitant rates. The merc paled, eyes going to the skies to search for the silhouette of an AV4 .
"Shit!" He cursed, "Shit! Should have just done you in the club. Idiot!" The man ran a hand through his blond hair, skritching his scalp with the hand not holding the knife as he tried to think. "You just cost me the biggest pay check of my life!"
Jared smirked, “Not my fault you suck, dude!”
The merc knelt down beside his mark and shook his head, "They'll patch you up, kid, get everything back in the right place but that don't mean I’m gonna make it easy for them."
Jared's eyes widened as he registered the mercenary's words. Struggling, he tried to back away but the railings were in the way. He was trapped.
Light flashed off the blade as it slashed down, opening vest and skin in one slick move. Jared's eyes slipped closed as he screamed. Another slice and then another. He could feel the pain flash through him. His world narrowed to the wetness of blood flowing and the agony running through him. He could just make out the manic laughter of the mercenary somewhere above him.
“Don’t forget to give Morgan my regards,” the older man whispered in his ear, “if you survive.”
There was one final deep thrust and nothing.
Master Fic Post | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13
14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | Epilogue | Master Art Post | Soundtrack